“Was he really?” She asked, waiting on baited breath. Wood could stand it no longer. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. ‘How famous. The law would accord her all her previous rights: she would return to the exact status out of which in his madness he had taken her. There must be real Valjeans, else how could authors write about them? Supposing some day she met one of these astonishing creators, who could make one cry and laugh and forget, who could thrill one with love and anger and tenderness? Most of us have witnessed carnivals. "You call in vain," rejoined Thames.
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